Counting Down Till December
by Dolly7542
Summary: Jareth must marry before the year is out and produce an heir or else he relinquishes his claim to the High Throne. Adult language and themes. Warning: Potentially graphic sexual situations
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Greetings, children! Until further notice, my other works are on hold. I have been working on this idea for quite a while but did not like the outcome so I refrained from publishing. The beginning is a bit boring as it is more of an explanatory chapter. It hopefully gets better in later chapters. Let me know what you think!

I do not own any of the original characters featured in the movie. The Labyrinth does not belong to me, unfortunately. I only own the OCs (obviously).

Now...on with the show!

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High King Oberon tensed behind his polished mahogany desk as his eldest son stormed into his study, eyes aflame.

"What is the meaning of this, father," he hissed, dropping the letter abruptly onto the desk and glaring at it distastefully. Jareth had been quite ill-tempered since his first year, however, this sudden outburst was highly uncharacteristic, even for him.

"Jareth you need an heir," the High King reasoned, his tone a peculiar mixture of sympathy and resentment. Their relationship had been increasingly strained (not that it wasn't before) as the High King's three thousandth year approached, during which it was customary that the High King and/or Queen relinquished their throne to their eldest legitimate child so that they may spend time with their families or do as they please before they are called upon to walk with the High God. High King Oberon was having none of this "ridiculous rubbish"as he so often proclaimed it to be and firmly believed that the "...tradition was created by selfish individuals who were unfit to rule any longer than necessary to preserve their oh so remarkable reputations."

"Where am I to find a bride within the year?"Jareth demanded, recalling the deadline. His father dictated that he was to marry before the sun sets on the winter solstice. Outside the vast arched window bloodroots, lilacs (he grimaced), azaleas, as well as various other vegetation that Jareth had not cared to learn the names of were in full bloom, foretelling of the celebration that was soon to come.

Beltane was fast approaching, signaling the end of spring and the beginning of summer.

"How about one of your various whores you seem to be so fond of," the High King suggested, once again that strange marriage of tones resurfacing. It was quite clear that Oberon would never want to be in Jareth's position, but oh how he relished the opportunity to jest at his son's expense. Jareth was all too aware of this fact and chose to not outwardly express his feelings. He would never give his father that sense of satisfaction although every fiber in his immaculate being ached to reach over and throttle the elder man.

"I _know_ you have quite the vast knowledge of _whores_ yourself. You simply cannot expect me to agree to such conditions,"Jareth ground out.

"Why not? It is either that or you forfeit the throne to Emalia." Jareth cringed at the mention of his half-sister. Emalia was the sniveling byproduct of a tryst between Jareth's father and his mother's handmaiden. Anya, the current High Queen, had begun her treacherous journey as a kitchen wench in the Royal Palace when she first caught the High King's eye and it was not long before she had crept her way into his bed. At the time, Jareth's mother had been quite ill, having suffered a near-fatal miscarriage and required around the clock care. Seizing the opportunity, Oberon promoted Anya to tend his wife's needs during the day...then satiate his own vulgar appetite in the night. However, due to Anya's careless inexperience, Jareth had to watch as his once vibrant and lively mother withered away and succumbed to infection. Three days later he was placing lilacs beneath her tombstone. They reminded her of spring.

Jareth snapped. "I would never relinquish my birthright to your precious bastard, daughter of a whore." This seemed to resonate deep within the High King.

"How dare you disrespect me, you insolent child!" Suddenly standing, the High King slammed his fist against the wall, effectively bloodying the stone in the process. "You are dismissed you, ungrateful wretch. _Get out!_ " Alerted by the sound of distress, the Palace guards filed into the room, weapons at the ready, and quickly escorted Jareth out of the King's study. Going unnoticed by all, the sounds of muffled sobs echoed throughout the corridor.

"Get off me! I know the way out," Jareth snarled, furious yet not wanting to make a scene. _Yes, a perfect way to begin your reign Jareth, getting kicked out of the Royal Palace and escorted out by_ guards _nonetheless. Gods, what am I going to do? How can I marry someone I don't love? I refuse to make the same mistake my parents did. I would die before I became my father._

However, little did Jareth know that death may come sooner rather than later, for he could never fall in love as his very soul had already been whisked away long ago and currently lay nestled within the breast of a young mortal woman, imprisoned in a fit of unrestful slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N. I have never been to Juilliard so forgive me if my information is wrong. This is going to be a 3rd person omniscient story so the POV skips around.**

As the seasons bloomed and faded, as all things do, such was the tale of young Sarah Williams.

"Hey Williams, wake up!" Sarah's mandated roommate hollered as she rummaged through the pantry. Looks like today was going to be Ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwich day. Evie sighed in exasperation and habitually swept an annoying lock of pastel pink hair out of her eyes.

"Sarah Williams, you better get your lazy ass out of that bed before I go in there with a pitcher of ice water! You know, they do say that cold showers make you smarter. Wanna test that theory?"

"Nobody says that Evie," came Sarah's measly response, groggy and desperate for another five minutes of rest. She hadn't gotten home until eleven o'clock last night after which she spent two hours revising her English Literature essay and another two and a half studying for her AP Chemistry final. Working the night shift at the Lexington Candy Shop was killing her but she desperately needed the money. Once Sarah's high school graduation party ended and preparations for college were made, Irene had the brilliant idea of practically cutting her off monetarily.

"Robert, it will teach her responsibility and enhance her work ethic if she got a job and actually worked her way through college instead of relying on us to baby her," Irene spoke in hushed tones to Sarah's father after dinner on the eve of her graduation celebration. Sarah had stood silently at the base of the stairs, a whisper of a shadow in the house, no longer a home, that she grew up in. Hurt and betrayal etched onto her otherwise elegantly beautiful features. However, as months passed and her first year of university arrived, Irene's lecture did not stop her father from slipping her an extra twenty dollars here and there for food and other necessities. And maybe a bit on the side for extras.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Sarah bellowed as the frigid liquid enveloped her being. Obscenities flowed in a steady stream as Sarah thrust the comforter off her pale frame and scrambled out of her bed, only to land in a mass off limbs upon the thin carpet. She lied there a moment, mesmerized by the sporadic rollercoaster her life had turned into. And it all began with one phone call.

FLASHBACK

Her pillow was drenched in her sorrow as Sarah's sobs echoed into the night. An abrupt shout from the dining room downstairs halted her rasping breaths.

"Sarah, you have a call!" Irene's voice annoyed Sarah. Gritting her teeth so hard she was scared they would break, she hollered back.

"Ugh. Tell them to go away. I don't want to talk to anyone right now!"

"Alright. Your loss I suppose. They said they were from Juilliard." Sarah stopped breathing. The next thing she knew was that she had the home phone in her hand and that Irene was on the floor gaping with fury. "Sarah Williams! What the hell is..." Sarah held up her pointer finger in an "in a moment" gesture and raised the large device towards her left ear.

She hesitated. "H-hello?" came her meek response.

"Yes, hello. This is Cecelia Schroeder from the admissions office at Juilliard. I am assured I am speaking to Ms. Sarah Williams?" a woman in formal language yet maintaining a kind tone. Sarah gulped, anxiety coursed through her veins.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Excellent! It seems that there was an error concerning your acceptance into our institution. Apparently, there was a miscommunication and the information within your letter from us was incorrect. I have called to inform you that you have indeed been accepted into our prestigious university. You should receive an updated letter within the week with all of the information required. Congratulations, Ms. Williams and have a wonderful year at Juilliard!" The phone clicked and Sarah was greeted with the dull sound of the dial tone.

END OF FLASHBACK

Grumbling, Sarah slowly repositioned herself onto her feet.

"I hate you," she growled. However, that couldn't be further from the truth. Evie Hammond had been her most trusted and beloved friend since her freshman year at Juilliard. Evie had a presence that attracted both men and women to her flame. Her silken hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob and dyed a gorgeous shade of pastel pink. It was a difficult shade to describe. Perhaps that of a newborn cherry blossom: pure and oblivious to the cruelties plaguing the world. Although, Evie knew all too well of such darkness.

She was an aspiring ballet dancer and was passionate about the arts. She cherished those moments where she could be free. Her dance performances were quite captivating. It was as if nothing else existed. Not a care in the world.

"Well, whose fault is it really?" Evie inquired, raising a single manicured eyebrow. She was always so meticulous about her appearance.

"Okay, fine! I should have listened." Sarah grumbled reluctantly.

"See. Smarter already. Now let's go!" Sarah froze. It was (she glanced at the clock above their door) 7:00 am on a Saturday!

"What the hell, Evie! It's is seven am on a SATURDAY. I should still be asleep right now!" She crossed her arms defiantly.

"Well, ladybug, it seems you have forgotten one tiny thing. You know that family you sort of have? Yeah, them. Well, the step-monster called in order to inform you of their visitation as tomorrow marks your 21st year since you gained freedom from the confines of the birth-giver. Remember that? THEY CALLED LAST WEEK, SARAH!" Oh, shit! Sarah had completely forgotten that her step-mother called. She tended to ignore anything that concerned her.

"Fuck my life."

"Too late for that ladybug. Get your ass in the shower. It's time to get ready!" Sarah was still confused.

"For what?" She questioned.

"It's time to pick up mommy and daddy dearest at the airport."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait! Here is the next chapter but I warn you, it isn't very good.

Featuring: November Rain by Guns N' RoseS

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It wasn't even ten minutes later when Evie rapped on the bathroom door. "Come, on Sarah, we're going to be late if you don't hurry. Their plane gets in at 8:15 am and you're still not dressed!" That may have been a bit of a white lie. Their plane really didn't get in until 8:45 am but Evie was impatient and despised waiting. She always had to be up and moving.

"Keep going," Coach Newton would chide, " keep going 'till you can't go no more." Coach Newton was like her second father. He was a 52-year-old man of moderate height and build. Age had granted him a slightly protruding belly and graying ash-blonde hair that he always kept hidden underneath an autographed New York Yankees baseball cap. It was his pride and joy. Well, it and Evie.

Evie was interrupted from her fond reverie as an abrupt BANG sounded from within the other side of the polished wooden door. Oh my God. Please, not again. "Sarah! Sarah, open the door. SARAH!"

SARAH

"When I look into your eyes, I can see a love restrained," the familiar guttural tones sounded within her mind as she belted the tune in her own mezzo-soprano voice whilst scrubbing the night's sweat and grime from her ebony locks. Her hair had grown even longer over the years, now just grazing where her lower back joined the shapely curve of her bottom if she tilted her head back slightly.

"But darlin' when I hold you, don't you know I feel the same? Yeah." As her body continued the song, her mind began to wander, straying from her physical being and elevating to a separate, more evolved consciousness.

The abrupt change in scenery startled Sarah for she was no longer standing within the crowded dorm room shower cleansing her body of impurities. Shower. Oh God, am I..., her heart-rate spiked as her gaze shot downward only to thankfully discover that she was fully clothed in elegant fabric that billowed around her and swayed delicately in wind. Thank, God. At least it wasn't one of those dreams. The dress was of a deep forest green, a shade or two darker than her own radiant eyes. She could feel the luxuriously expensive silken material caress her graceful form as well as the gold and silver patterned floral corset constricting her airway and pressing her breasts up to new heights. The first part of the off-shoulder sleeves was quite similar to the corset in both material and pattern, as well as the shade of green yet stopped approximately two-thirds down her upper arm. They rest of the sleeve was of the same silk fabric of the skirts of the dress and flared past her fingertips. A necklace of polished jade gemstones rimmed in gold graced her slender neck and slipped into the valley of her voluptuous breasts.

Glancing around, she inquisitively studied her environment. She was standing underneath the roof of a large classic white gazebo. It was as if she had stepped into one of her romance novels that she hid embarrassedly in a cardboard box within the back of her closet.

The air was spicy with the fragrant blossoms that danced along the borders of the gazebo. Sarah could only recognize a few including blush-colored camellias, a variety of multi-colored carnations, dahlias in shades of lavender, and ivory gardenias.

As if enchanted, she continued her ballad, only, this time, it was not just her voice participating. "'Cause nothin' lasts forever. And we both know hearts can change." It was all around her, flowing in and out of her body. The music was ecstasy, electrifying and dark. A delicious shudder crept down her spine. After nearly six years had passed, she still had not forgotten that deep sensual voice which belonged to only one man.

"And it's hard to hold a candle, in the cold November rain."

As soon as it came, it went. A whisper of a breath, centimeters away from the earlobe, just grazing the skin but close enough to send goosebumps scattering across her milky flesh. Her cheeks took on a rosy hue as she spun around, desperately longing for the man who owned that voice.

In perfect unison, their dance continued.

"We've been through this such a long long time, just tryin' to kill the pain." The first thing that hit her was his scent. An intoxicating mixture of exotic flowers and the musky undertones of a scent that was entirely unique to him and made her knees become unstable.

A black leather clad hand wrapped itself around her waist from behind, steadying her. Afraid to turn around, Sarah allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder. She could feel the silk of his poet's shirt underneath her fingertips as she traced circles on his arm and he swayed her gently from side to side.

"But lovers always come and lovers always go. And no one's really sure who's lettin' go today." He stiffened behind her. She couldn't take the suspense anymore and carefully turned in his arms. She clung onto the fabric of his shirt, believing that should she loosen her grip, even a fraction, he should disappear once more. Ten seconds passed, each seemingly lasting an entire millennia. Finally, she gathered enough courage to move her gaze upwards.

Her heart stopped as her bright orbs locked with a pair of familiar baby blues. They were as exquisite as she remembered. With one pupil curiously larger than the other, his eyes spoke volumes of a unique story which she yearned to understand. Placing her hand upon his cheek she leaned in.

"Sarah," Jareth murmured her name as if it was his ultimate salvation. Their lips locked briefly before she pulled back, however, those few seconds were enough to make her toes curl and she hummed contentedly. Sarah buried her face within the fabric of his shirt as she felt her face become increasingly more heated. When she spoke in hushed tones that were nearly inaudible, however, Jareth's enhanced hearing could make out those six words that both shattered and mended his heart all at once.

"I never want you to go."


End file.
